AN: Wait until it's finished, then I'll tell you!
by FumblesMcStupid
Summary: Something is stolen from Rodney and he will do almost anything to get it back.
1. Practical Jokers

A/N: Shw'mae (hello) everyone. This fic is the result of a reading 'Retribution' by BiteMeTechie and a silly lunch break with a couple of friends who were all hyped up on sugar and caffeine, singing on the top of their heads. I was sensible and didn't join in at all. whistles innocently Unfortunately, the silly song stuck in my head, and a plot bunny came a-nibbling. sigh I don't know which is to blame, plot bunnies or fizzy drinks. 

Chapter One: Practical Jokers.

Rodney McKay strode across the mess hall purposefully, ignoring the friendly calls from his fellow team members and co-workers, offering him a place at their table. His continued disregard for their hails caused many of the other expedition members to turn their heads and follow his progress to the far wall, which had somehow become the Atlantis notice board for unofficial announcements.

Swiftly, Rodney tacked up the A4 sheet of paper he was carrying in a prominent position. Without saying a word, the scientist turned smartly on his heel and marched right back out of the dinning area.

_Uh oh,_ groaned Elizabeth, _That can't be good._ Something was clearly troubling her Chief Scientist, and a pissed off McKay was something she – and indeed, the rest of Atlantis – would rather avoid. Deciding that some intel would be useful, Elizabeth got up from her meal and wandered over to the notice board to inspect Rodney's poster:

**"Warning to the practical jokers of this expedition. Enough is enough. Put it back in my room by nightfall or suffer the consequences."**

_Well,_ she pondered, _It's not very informative; I wonder what's been taken?_ Elizabeth made a snap decision and chose not to get involved. _After all, Rodney has given them fair warning; if the jokers are smart, they'll give in. This isn't really a problem._

If only she knew how wrong that was.


	2. A better idea

Chapter Two: A better idea A/N: Please be patient with this chapter. All will be revealed shortly!

"ARRGGH!" yelled Radek Zelenka.

"Eeek!" screamed Miko Kusanagi.

"What the fu…?" shouted John Sheppard.

As Dr. Zelenka made his way through the corridors, hoping to be first in for what just past for coffee, he heard a shout of surprise similar to the one he'd made earlier as he walked by one of the quarters; clearly, Lt. Cadman was not an early riser and also did not appreciate a stone-cold shower.

As the occupants of Atlantis drifted into the mess hall for breakfast, there was only one topic of conversation: Where had all the hot water gone? As Zelenka listened to snatches of conversation while he waited at the serving hatch, the problem seemed to be city-wide. Everyone seemed to have had an unpleasant experience when they stepped into their showers this morning.

Strange, he thought, I ran a diagnostic on the city's plumbing systems not more than a week ago.

"Bore da, Radek."

Radek shook himself out of his thoughts. "Hmm? I apologise; what did you say Dr. Davies? Sit down, please." Dr. Zelenka indicated the empty space opposite him.

The tall engineer laughed as he pulled the chair out, his tray balancing precariously on his other hand. "Oops, sorry, I said good morning," he said cheerfully, his accent marking his as Welsh in origin.

"Forgive me Llewellyn, but I do not believe that a morning which begins with a nasty cold shower could be a good morning."

"You too?" Dr. Davies asked incredulously. "What could have malfunctioned?"

"I do not know; it is unusual for a problem with the plumbing to affect more than a handful of people."

"Well, whoever it was, they'd better be running for the hills right now," said a new voice from behind Zelenka. "Mind if I join you two?"

"Not at all; please sit, Lydia," said Radek, gesturing at an empty seat with his fork.

"Shw'mae Dr. Winter. Are you over 'Hurricane McKay' yet?" asked Dr. Davies.

Dr. Lydia Winter just glared at the Welshman.

"Apparently not, then."

"Never mind about that. Why do you say that the person responsible should be running for the hills, Lydia?"

"Because I reckon quite a few people are pissed this morning!"

Dr. Davies just snorted. "And you'd know all about being pissed at someone, wouldn't you?"

"Dr. Davies…"

"Nah, call me Llewellyn."

"Ok, Llewellyn then, if you'd spent three weeks doing research and then some egotistical prick goes and scribbles all over it in a big fat black marker, supposedly correcting it when infact said prick is using a different hypothesis, can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't want to wring his bloody neck too?"

"Whoa!" said Llewellyn, holding up his palms in the international gesture of peace, "I'm on your side!"

"Is that why you've been working in your private lab, Lydia?" Radek asked kindly.

"Yep. I've had to start all over again."

"Poor dab! We've all run afoul of the beast that is McKay; haven't we, Radek? I must admit, we're all for you. Go Lydia!"

"Rodney has been very quiet recently, though I fear that it will not last long!"

"Not if I had my way!"

"If you had your way, we'd be sending Dr. McKay home in a body bag!" countered Zelenka.

"Exactly!"

"You might want to lay off that idea," warned Llewellyn.

"Why? Have you got a better one?" snarked Lydia.

"Sure do."

A/N: Thanks to BiteMeTechie and her fic 'Retribution' and for the use of the character Dr. Lydia Winter. Please go and read it; it's fantastic.

Dr. Llewellyn Davies, however, is entirely my own creation, feel free to use him if you wish. All I ask is that you do not make up any Welsh dialogue for him – growls threateningly - as it is a beautiful language which I love. Just ask if you want translations, OK? Speaking of which:

Bore da – Good morning (bor-a daa)  
Shw'mae – Hello (shh-mye)  
Dab – creature, thing (daab)

Sorry for the poor pronunciation explanations; it's difficult to write them for what is essentially a phonetic language that you've been speaking all your life!

I should point out that 'dab' isn't really Welsh, but something which is sometimes referred to as 'Wenglish' – a cross between Welsh and English that is found in the South Wales valleys in the old coal mining areas, which has led to a sort of language that has its own phrases and colloquialisms, even if its just in the way ordinary English is pronounced. Sounds crazy, but you have to live here to really understand it. However, this may tickle some of you: The Wenglish phrase for a disreputable person is – and I kid you not – 'a Rodney.' Hmmm…

Ok, I've finished ranting about Welsh (for now!) 


	3. Let the battle commence

Chapter Three: Let the battle commence

"Ok, so what could possibly be better than killing the bastard?"

Dr. Davies looked pointedly at Zelenka before continuing. "I was thinking of humiliation."

Before Radek could question his fellow engineer, an almighty boom went through the air.

"Owch!" yelled Lt. Cadman, who was sitting on the Mess Hall floor, covered in her breakfast, with the remains of her chair inexplicably strewn around her. Jumping up hastily, Laura snatched at a particular piece of chair and held it up to the deathly silent Mess Hall.

"Who the hell fitted my chair with a bomb?" she shouted angrily, shaking the device at her fellow Atlanteans.

While Lt. Cadman was calmed down by Dr. Beckett and dragged reluctantly to the infirmary, Llewellyn, Lydia and Radek were about to start clearing up the wreckage for examination, when a squeal came from the other side of the room.

Dr. Miko Kusanagi was holding a plastic spider, dripping with porridge.

"Is this someone's idea of a joke?" she wailed.  
Radek suddenly went ashen.

"Lydia, Llewellyn, would you please help me carry these to my lab for analysis?"

Catching the look the Czech gave him, Dr. Davies replied rapidly, "Dim problem, Radek." Quickly, the trio left the Mess Hall.

Once they had reached Zelenka's lab, Radek ushered them inside and locked the door.

"Um, Radek, what's going on?"

"Is a suspicion, nothing more, but it is something Dr. Kasunagi said."

Lydia looked puzzled. "She asked if the spider was someone's idea of a joke. What's significant about that?"

Llewellyn groaned. "The poster…"

"Yes, the poster."

"Huh? Anyone fancy throwing me a bone me here?"

"You did not visit the Mess yesterday, so you did not see," explained Llewellyn , "Dr. McKay stormed in and put up a notice; apparently, something has been stolen from him, and he wants it back."

Dr. Zelenka took up the narrative. "He called the thieves 'practical jokers'. I'm guessing that the jokers have continued their work."

"So the cold showers, the chair, the spider… they are all the work of some practical jokers?"

"That is my theory."

Llewellyn wondered how far he could trust the two people in the room with him. He'd worked with Radek for six months now and thought that he'd go along with it, but Lydia Winter was new. But she does hate McKay, he mused, So tell them.

"It's not the work of practical jokers… at least, not the ones who stole something from McKay's room," he admitted, looking shifty.

"Oh? Please elaborate, Dr. Davies," ordered Radek, looking intrigued.

"Ah, well, I um… I'm the thief, you see. And I haven't been pulling all these tricks, I just wanted to get back at McKay for calling me a 'sheep farmer who got his degree from some cave in the back end of no-where.' I wanted to humiliate him – it's much more fun than trying to kill someone," he said with a sly look at Dr. Winter.

Lydia grinned, "You're secret's safe with me. What did you steal?"

Llewellyn told them.

Silence.

Then laughter; Dr. Zelenka actually fell to the floor, giggling hysterically.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," chuckled the Welshman, "It's even better; I've got video too."

"This is an opportunity! I'm sure, between the three of us, we can come up with something creative."

"What about a city-wide broadcast? Or emailing it to everyone on the base?" suggested Dr. Zelenka.

Lydia clapped her hands excitedly. "Brilliant! We could upload it onto the Daedalus too, so everyone at the SGC can have a good laugh too!"

"What about holding it hostage?" deliberated Llewellyn.

Radek looked sombre. "We have forgotten something. If Llewellyn is the thief and he is not the practical joker, then who is?" 


End file.
